


secrets under the stars, whispers over the streets

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Procrastination at its finest, idk kid fic or growing up series, this has been sitting in my folder for almost a year now wOW
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story following the lives of Harry and Louis, as they meet at primary, face challenges at secondary, and everything after that; as they experience life, and realise some things about who they are.</p><p>Basically, the generic kid!fic that turns into a coming of age saga which spirals into everything beyond. An AU about growing older, (but not necessarily growing up) and what comes with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	secrets under the stars, whispers over the streets

**Author's Note:**

> SO. This has been in my folder for almost a year after I started writing it but never continued. At first, it was supposed to be a long oneshot, but know, I've realised that if I do that I'll never actually get it finished so it's going to be a story in chapters; and each chapter will probably depict a certain age. Some ages may have more than one chapter.
> 
> As always, I don't own One Direction , and I am not affiliated with them in any way. This is a work of fiction - basically, none of it is real and it is just what my mind decides to come up with at 2 in the morning.

Harry's decided that he doesn't like school.

He really, really doesn’t like school.

You can’t blame him either - It's full of adults, who, to his five year old mind, are as big as giants, and other kids. Harry's never been the outgoing sort, so making friends isn't easy for him, not like it is for the others.

This is probably the reason he’s sitting alone in the sandpit in the corner, sucking his thumb, trying to stop himself from crying because he’s a big kid now that he’s in reception, and big kids don’t cry.

Still, it makes him sad when he sees all the other children in his class play with each other, having made friends in an instant. There is the occasional outbreak of hysterical crying, when a child gets a sudden attack of missing their parents - it is their very first day of school after all - but that is soon quietened down by the nice teacher, and everyone returns to whatever they were doing before; colouring, playing with the toys, messily slurping up a juice box, and generally making a lot of noise. Everyone apart from Harry that is; he just quietly makes a sandcastle, decorating it precisely and carefully. And when a little girl accidentally trips and squashes it, the sandcastle that Harry's spent two hours perfecting, the tears well up in his eyes and for the first time in the whole day, Harry starts crying.

When the whistle goes to announce the start of break, Harry stumbles out of the classroom last, wiping off the tears that have trailed down his cheek with the back of his hand. While the other kids in his class rush towards the swings and slides, Harry walks over to the brick wall that stands about three feet high, separating the reception kids from the Year One's and Two's and with some difficulty, hoists himself up and perches on the wall, facing the ground.

He lingers there undisturbed for about five minutes, thinking of how much he wants to go home, before someone taps him on the shoulder, startling him so much that he jumps, and tumbles off the wall.

Harry lies on the ground, his eyes closed. He’s dazed from the fall, and can’t bring himself to move. His head hurts from where it collided with the ground.

He stays there for a couple of moments, unmoving, before he hears frantic whispers near him, and someone begins shaking his shoulder, hard.

“Hi! Are you ok? Get up! Please!”

A slightly high pitched male voice says right next to him.

“Please get up! You haven’t died, have you? Oh no, please say you’re not dead, I didn’t mean for you to fall over!” The voice is sounding more and more distraught by the second, and Harry doesn’t want that – he doesn’t want someone to be sad because of him, so he gathers up all his energy and flutters his eyes open, before slowly sitting up, and looks around, trying to find the person who had been freaking out over him. His eyes fall on a boy right next to him; he’s staring at Harry with a look of utmost relief plastered onto his face.

Wide eyed, Harry takes in the boy. He has slightly tanned skin, and pacific blue eyes. He’s taller than Harry, making Harry feel even more smaller.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry, I just wanted to talk to you, I didn’t mean for you to fall!” The boy speaks, nervously looking at Harry. “Please don’t tell on me.”

Harry wants to reply that it’s okay, he’s not going to tell on him, but he’s distracted by the dull throbbing in the side of his head where it must have made contact with the ground. He bites his lip, but can’t stop the tears from welling up in his eyes as he rubs his head.

The other boy looks worriedly at Harry. “Did you hurt your head? I’m so sorry! Lemme have a look at that,” he says, and reaches out towards Harry’s head.

Normally, Harry would have shied away, but right now he’s too distracted by the pain in his head. He just wants it to go away. Plus, this boy, whoever he is, seems nice.

The boy examines the side Harry’s temple, where it hurts, and says, “Well, it isn’t bleeding, and that’s a good thing. One time, I fell down when I was climbing a tree and hit my head it it started bleeding! It hurt loads, but I didn’t cry, because I’m a big boy.”

Harry finally finds it in him to speak, but he accidentally prods the other boy, who giggles.

“Oops!” Harry murmurs. “S-sorry. And I-I’m a big boy t-oo! I’m a whole fi-five years old!” he stutters, with the smallest hint of pride in his voice.

The other boy smirks, before stating, “You’re only five? I’m a whole seven years old!”

And, wow. Harry looks at the boy in awe. _Seven?!_ That’s so big! No wonder this boy is so brave, no wonder he didn’t cry when he fell out of the tree. Which brings Harry back to the pain in his head.

“Um..” he says nervously, as if he thinks the other boy is going to run away if he talks more “I-Is there anything that could make my head hurt less? Because it really h-hurts.”

The boy looks at Harry sympathetically. “I don’t think so. You don’t need a bandage because it’s not bleeding..” he trails off.

“O-oh..” Harry whispers, and he really, really wants to cry. The tears are building up on the verge of his eyes, but he holds them back, because he doesn’t want this big boy to think he’s a baby, because _he isn’t._ He _isn’t_ going to cry.

Suddenly, the other boy brightens up, as if he’s had the best idea in the world. “We can’t give you a bandage, but my mummy says whenever I get hurt, I should go to her so she can kiss it better! You should get someone to kiss it better for you!” he exclaims excitedly.

Harry, however, deflates. “B-but my mummy isn’t here to kiss it better. She’s at home.”

The boy looks at Harry’s dejected face and seems to contemplate something, before mumbling, “Well. Um, if you wanted me to, I could kiss it better for you?”

Harry immediately brightens up. “Yes please! It’ll make it stop hurting, right?”

“Well, I don’t know if it’ll stop hurting, but it should hurt less.” The boy replies, and that’s good enough for Harry, and he points to the spot where it hurts most.

The boy leans over, and presses his lips to Harry’ head, giving him a quick kiss. Harry likes how it feels. He almost asks the boy to do it again. Almost, but not quite. The boy was right though; it does hurt less now, or at least it feels like it hurts less.

“Thank you,” Harry says, smiling at the boy to try and convey his appreciation.

The boy giggles. Harry likes it when he giggles. It sounds pretty, like tinkling bells.

“No problem,” he grins. “Oh, and, what’s your name? ‘M Louis.”

Louis. Harry likes it. It sounds nice.

“I’m Harry,” he announces. He really likes Louis. He hopes Louis likes him too.

“Well, Harry, I think we’re going to be best friends!” Louis smiles widely, and yeah, Harry wants to be best friends with Louis. He’d like that.

When he voices this to Louis, he laughs excitedly. “I’d like that too, that’s why I said it! Hi, Hazza, my new best friend!”

Harry feels a blush creep over his cheeks. “Hi Lou,” he returns.

Just then, the whistle signalling the end of break goes, and Louis has to go, since he’s in Year Two, and Harry’s only in reception. He scrambles over the wall, after giving Harry a quick hug, and calls out “Bye Hazza! See you at lunch!” and runs across the playground to where his class is lining up.

“Bye Lou!” And Harry likes that. He likes knowing that Louis will come back to the wall at lunch, just to talk to him. He likes that he has a friend now.

And as he lines up with the rest of his class to go back inside, he decides that maybe school isn’t that bad after all.


End file.
